Just when I claimed authority on naming the hidden souls,
Few emerged from the deep caverns of our mischievous era,
And few ascended into the glorious stage of heavenly winds,
But naming without seeking insight is an act of treason,
Treason towards the nature’s call for a justifiable beauty,
Such that we may realise not to disturb a leaf’s descent,
Or not to curse the cloud’s choice to reduce visibility,
Now that I have discovered the need not to name you,
I am free to be one with nature to gain an insightful smile.
The elegance of sweet royalty is in her calmness,
A wisdom beyond our era of tedious simplicity,
A comprehensive elevated mindset to set us free,
And inside my heart this sweet serene soul dwells,
No place is better suited for my majestic twin.
Predators masked as youthful birds,
Soaring over the wilderness of free souls,
Spreading poison on ripened fruits,
Fragrances delivered for suicidal seduction,
And as you dance to their melodic birdsongs
You get chained to their psychopathic beauty,
An unwanted addiction – unwarranted,
Darkness becomes your smiles,
Ignorance your laughs,
A euphoric moment in a dysphoric life,
And then the mask cracks,
Waiting out the addiction.
Even when I pop the boiling bubbles,
Floating over my blood,
Bomb blasting it into bits and pieces,
Blood bathing this ashen heart,
Ice-filled buckets were added, stirred,
As if preparing a refreshing lemonade,
Yet, the heart aches into thunderous screams,
And as soon as I start to forget,
The heavens drop storms and devise nightmares,
Nullifying the colourful floral dreams,
Dreams once filled with glittering unicorns,
Unicorns galloping freely through rainbows,
Rainbows so magical mystically spreading
Smiles on my straightened lips,
And now I bloom,
Evolve into a butterfly, and indeed,
I have awoken from that darker-than-black abyss,
I am now my own therapist,
Voicing powerful rainbow smiles,
And getting ready for my resuscitation.
What will you do when you have been –
Captured by a Black Widow,
Believing that she’s your Queen,
Living happily in her silky strings,
Except they are devouring you – ever – so – slowly,
And when you wake up from this magical dream:
(where your heart screams so loud
That you forget to listen to those close to you,
Those that cared for your angelic smile,
Those who will still await your return patiently)
And then you start to struggle your way out,
Not sure whether it is too late or not,
But you do it nonetheless,
To taste freedom once more,
And to her, you are but a useless pawn,
Trapped in her game –
Suddenly, one string snaps,
That is your remedy,
So you continue cutting all your connections with her,
And with each snap she furiously fits uncontrollably,
Because picturing you dissing her royalty is unbearable,
And you finally escape!
So what now?
Will you return to her throne and burn it down?
Or move on to find another royalty?
Or will you forge yourself into a throne-less King?